When the plane landed John grabbed his bag, got through customs, jumped into a taxi, and went to the neighbourhood where his mother lived.
He asked the taxi to wait, for, after all, his mother might not be home, she might not live there any more, etc.
He went to the door and knocked.
His mother opened it, staring at him as if she didn’t know who he was.
“Hi Mom! It’s me! John!”
“You can’t stay here,” she said, coldly.
He didn’t know what he was to say. He stood staring and she said something about having to go out.
John was pinned by the cold eyes, his mouth trying to frame words. As she seemed about to close the door, he went back to the taxi. He returned to the airport. He went into the bathroom to cry.